


Kept

by Leyenn



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Matriarchy, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:09:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leyenn/pseuds/Leyenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The <i>Enterprise</i> is en route to Earth for the Biannual Federation Conference, carrying Ambassador Deanna Troi, Daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed, and her Human consort. Written for the Porn Battle XII, <i>kept</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kept

She's agitated when she comes back to her quarters; he's felt the mood as it came over her, at the reception for the Argolian delegates in the ship's forward lounge, and though he's done his best to project some calming emotions, there's only so much he can do. Her thoughts come into focus as she walks through the door, and then he understands the problem - the Argolians are nice enough, but their constant ceremonial chimes remind her of her mother's formal meal gong, and combined with the pressure of so many minds on board have given her an unpleasant throbbing headache.

He goes to the replicator and persuades it to provide him with a large, real hot chocolate, made with milk and topped with cream. He hesitates for a moment as it materialises; she hasn't requested his presence in her bedroom, and technically he shouldn't enter, but he hates seeing her like this...

He settles for standing at the open arch through into the other room, glass in hand. She's in there, changing out of her formal dress; he catches a glimpse of the smooth, supple line of her back and quickly drops his eyes before she can pick up on his attention.

"Deanna?"

"I have no need of you right now," she says, without turning. "You may return to your quarters."

He can hear the headache in her voice: she's more difficult to read by far than any other woman he's served before, but he's learning to recognise when she's in pain, even if she's trying to hide it. So he says nothing, but stands there instead holding the glass, waiting. He balances it on his palm: it's hot, but he closes his mind to it, as she's been trying to teach him to do. Sometimes he has some success, if he has something else to concentrate on - and right now that's her, as she tosses her dress carelessly across the bed, pulls on her robe, fights with untangling the clips from her hair, and finally turns back around with a surge of frustration even he can feel clearly.

"I told you to -"

But then she stops; looking at him, that he can tell even with his eyes lowered. There's silence for a moment, and then he hears her sigh, and watches her feet as she walks across the room and closes one hand around his, the other around the heat of the glass slowly burning his palm.

Daring, he lifts his gaze to her face and she's smiling, though he can still see - and feel, just about - the pain behind it. "Thank you," she says softly, such a different tone, and he knows it's heartfelt.

He shrugs. "You seemed like you needed it." He wanted to do that for her, to take away the pain and soothe those feelings that make his skin itch on the inside now that she's in the room with him. God help him, his father would be ashamed all over again, but he's fallen so damn badly for her.

Deanna takes the glass from him and quickly switches hands to hold it by the handle. He drops his own hands away -

\- and she catches him by the wrist, still looking him in the eyes, slowly lifts his reddened palm to her lips and kisses it. It's still hot, probably slightly burned, and it itches, and it feels like he has too many nerve endings right there where her soft mouth presses, open, against his skin.

"It's just what I needed. Thank you."

He smiles and bows his head. "All part of the service." He isn't sure he should ask, but he isn't sure he shouldn't, with the ghost of her lips making his palm tingle. "Is there anything else I could do for you tonight?"

She shakes her head, though the sharpness is gone from her voice, and pats him lightly on the chest. "No, this is enough." She walks out into the living area; despite his gift, that she doesn't ask him to follow is an obvious dismissal. He takes a single step after her before holding himself back, something knotting in his stomach.

"Please. Let me-"

She sits down in the corner of the couch, curling her feet up in front of her, and it strikes him how small she seems. She doesn't ask or offer for him to sit as she looks up and silences him with a frown. "I told you, this is enough."

"You're in pain." He should not be doing this, should not be moving, should not be crossing the room to her, to kneel on the floor beside her and he should not be looking at her but he can't stop himself, he can't stop this desire, this _need_ to help her the only way he knows how. "Please let me," he says, hoarsely, desperate. He doesn't want to go back to his own empty cabin. He doesn't want to leave her side. He doesn't even know what she might want, but he could give it to her, whatever it is. "Please."

She looks down at him. He drops his gaze, steeling himself to be sent away regardless - but after a long moment, she sighs.

"You can stay." She sighs again, much heavier, but rueful. "You are far more stubborn than I should allow you to be, you know."

He smiles at the couch cushions, not quite daring to look at her again just yet. "I know."

"Some people would call that a mistake on my part."

He has no doubt that if she thought that herself, she'd take steps to correct it. Swiftly. "I know," he says, again. She sighs for a third time, but this time lighter; he can hear - and feel - the affection in it. She reaches out one hand, warmed by her glass, and strokes his hair.

"Thank you, Will," she says again, very softly. Her palm cradles the back of his head, gently, almost absently possessive; he closes his eyes and clears his mind for her as she's taught him, and she slips inside him with a long, slow, relieved breath out.

He kneels there in silence for the rest of the night while she drinks her hot chocolate and runs her fingers through his hair, over and over, and watches the stars go by outside.

  


*

  



End file.
